Yuming clenched his fists, walked outside, and took a long look at the towering heights of Mount Zhenyuan in the distance. The inner peaks of Zhenyuan were never dark, even at night, with spell residue frequently flaring up and the occasional twinkle of swordlight flashing and fading.
Somewhere in those peaks, there might have been a pair of eyes looking back at him.
Yuming calmed himself and walked back inside his dormitory, blowing out his lantern. Everything is just a theory, I haven't confirmed anything yet.
He grabbed some water and washed his face. Yujin. I'll give something to Yujin.
Yuming reached into his cabinet and pulled out an azure vile, emitting an alluring aroma of spirit oils and expensive herbs.
If I give it to him, and nothing happens, then things might be fine.
He slammed his cabinet door shut.
But if he refuses, or someone stops me—then I'll know something is wrong.
Yuming closed his eyes and went to sleep, but not before making sure to close his curtains tightly.
The next morning, Yuming arrived at the Merit Archive Pavilion before the morning bell, earlier than usual. He'd watched his steps on the way down from Far Lantern Peak—each shadow between the pines felt like a potential watcher.
The attendant at the entrance greeted him with the same familiar smile. Yuming returned the nod, then stepped inside.
His desk faced the wall. Overseer He's station sat behind him at a comfortable angle: close enough to supervise, far enough to seem casual.
Yuming glanced at the small mirror behind him—he had always thought it decorative. Now he wasn't sure.
"Early today, Yuming?" Overseer He called out, not looking up from his ledger.
"Senior He, I'm just eager to get to work."
Yuming sat down and reached for his brush. His hand hesitated over the ink stone. Even this—the tools, the paper, the merit contracts he copied—all provided by them.
By midday, the tension in his shoulders had eased. He reminded himself that even if something was wrong, not every attendant and clerk on Zhenyuan could possibly be part of it. Still, the feeling didn't leave entirely.
Liu Yiling rushed over to train swordplay with him, and he responded with a slightly prolonged glare before refusing politely. Yiling felt slightly uncomfortable and walked off dejectedly.
Where's Yujin? Probably at the training ground.
Yuming spotted Yujin near the training ground's far edge, moving through his forms with focused precision, his weight shifting smoothly from stance to stance.
Yuming slowed his approach, observing. Yujin's breathing was controlled, as if he was in a state of meditation. It was probably the impact of the Hollow-Reed Guard.
After a moment, Yujin finished his sequence and came to a rest, exhaling slowly as he wiped his brow with his sleeve. After a moment, he noticed Yuming standing at the platform's edge.
"Yuming," he called out, not quite smiling. "Finished at the Pavilion already?"
Yuming stepped forward onto the platform and spoke with a smile. "Yeah, I wanted to find you actually."
Yujin raised a brow. "What for?"
Yuming's smile widened, and he pulled out an azure vile from his robes, immediately grabbing Yujin's attention. "This is…"
"A Meridian-Smoothing Salve," Yuming responded cheerfully. "It reduces friction in qi flow, but it's not as useful for my Du Meridian."
He nodded toward the damp stone beneath Yujin's feet. "You push your circulation harder than I do. It'll suit you better."
Yujin took it before he quite seemed to realize he had, turning the vial in his hand, thumb tracing the smooth glass.
"…You're trying to bankrupt yourself?" he said.
It sure seems like it. Yuming thought to himself. It had cost him nearly a full spirit stone, he really wasn't happy to part with it. But he kept smiling. "We're brothers who've gone through life and death together, take it!"
Yujin stared at Yuming and his lips curved upwards. He finally allowed himself to let out a laugh and thanked Yuming profusely, then walked back to his dorm in high spirits. Before he left Yuming's sight, he turned around and yelled sincerely, "I won't let this go to waste!"
The air was still quiet, mountain peaks shone eternally in the distance.
Nothing happened.
The next day, Yuming stood across from the Far Lantern Peak Mission Board, biting the tip of his tongue. His eyes carefully scrolled over the listings.
Finally, his gaze rested on a certain panel. Go to the Yang family, collect tribute. Perfect.
He grabbed the wooden panel, pursuing the splintered divots with his finger. A good chance to leave Zhenyuan. Leaving the mountain gave him air, space, perspective—but also no one to step in if things went wrong.
"Yuming, wait up!" a wiry voice popped out from behind him.
Liu Yiling sprinted over towards him, "Let's do it together!" she declared, pumping her fist.
"Oh? Little Ling wants to leave the mountain?" he teased.
Yiling rolled her eyes, then glanced to the distance where she saw Liu Zhong, a boy given few resources from his family—but whose cultivation had surpassed hers. Her eyelids dropped slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.
"You think I'm lazy? I grab all the missions I can get my hands on!" she said it like a boast, but her eyes flickered back to Liu Zhong.
"Do you not think you're a bit… straightforward for this mission?"
Tribute collection meant dealing with mortals, minor cultivators, and sometimes problems the clan preferred not to notice.
Yiling scoffed. "I'm only straightforward because I can afford to be."
She jerked her chin toward the board. If I wait until I'm ready, Liu Zhong will be even further ahead.
"Fine," Yuming said leisurely, then smiled, "let's go see the wider world."
The two departed, trodding up the mossy stone steps towards a turquoise platform, and registered to use a flying boat.
The flying boat shuddered as the crystals beneath it flared to life. Wind tugged at their sleeves as the platform dropped away. Yiling gripped the railing, breath caught in her throat, watching Zhenyuan shrink from mountain to hill to a mist-veiled speck below.
As the boat drifted lower, the air changed. The sweetness of spirit qi thinned, losing that dense weight that filled one's lungs on Zhenyuan. The constant pressure behind Yuming's temples eased, like a hand finally lifting. For the first time in months, breathing didn't feel like part of cultivation.
The flying boat had dipped low along the mountain's outer folds when Yuming's gaze snagged on something below.
Halfway down a moss-dark slope, between two wind-bent pines, the rock face split into a narrow cleft. It wasn't large, but the mist behaved strangely around it—sliding past in thin streams instead of drifting in.
"Wait," Yuming said.
The boat slowed. Yiling followed his gaze, squinting. "It's just a hole in a hill."
"Maybe," he said, though his eyes hadn't moved. The air near that spot looked almost still, still enough to catch Yuming's eye.
Opportunity rarely knocked, it hid.
He guided the boat down toward a patch of flat stone not far from the opening. The hull settled with a dull thud. Up close, the cave mouth seemed deeper than it had from above. Cool air, not rich with spirit qi, drifted out.
Yiling didn't move from the boat.
"You're going in?" she asked.
Yuming adjusted the tie at his sleeve. "I'll take a look."
"This isn't Zhenyuan," she said, voice lower now. "If something's inside, no elders are watching. No formations. No one's coming."
He nodded once. That was the point.
"I'll stay here," she said, trying for firmness instead of fear. "If you don't come out, I'm leaving."
"Fair," Yuming said.
"But, Yuming," she began, "I really can't see anything special about that cave…" she held off on saying more, fearing Yuming would mock her for not noticing the obvious.
He ignored her and stepped toward the dark cleft. The air grew cooler with each step, the sounds of wind and leaves thinning behind him, as though the world outside had lowered its voice.
Then he felt it—a faint tug from ahead. Not qi density, but absence—a still pocket in the world, something unclaimed. Opportunity.
He took another step in.
Cling!
A scrape echoed from a side passage ahead. Yuming froze, Mirror-Current Steps settled into his limbs without thought.
His breathing thinned, weight shifting from his heels to the edges of his feet. His movements began to flow.
Voices followed.
"…the sense shifted. It must be deeper."
Three figures—two men and a woman—slipped out from the side tunnel, their silhouettes cutting across the dim light.
Their robes were stained, layered in mismatched fabrics. Cheap talismans hung openly, not hidden with clan neatness. Their gazes locked on him at once.
The woman's lips curved. "Mountain child."
The air between them tightened, thick with mutual understanding: same target—the opportunity!
The first man moved, not lunging, but angling left, cutting off retreat. The second mirrored him right. The woman remained ahead, standing still and measuring.
Yuming shifted, sliding half a step to the side. The first man's palm cut through the air where Yuming had just been; Mirror-Current carried Yuming forward.
He slipped his dagger—made from clan-forged steel—into his hand. The second man drew a heavy iron sword with a thick edge.
He swung low, aiming for Yuming's knee, but Yuming followed his rhythm and stepped forward. His foot skimmed the flat of the blade, redirecting his momentum. His dagger flashed towards the man's wrist—to threaten him, not to kill him.
The first man, who had missed Yuming earlier, punched again, with faint lines of qi wrapping his forearm. Yuming's Ren Meridian stirred, qi threaded up his front channel, and his torso turned in a way mortals would never attempt, causing his shoulder to flow past the strike.
Yuming gritted his teeth, then forced the dagger towards the man's ribs, but the man moved and he only managed a shallow tap. The man quickly recoiled and momentarily backed off in pain.
The woman moved—her foot tracing a slow arc on the cave floor. A thin layer of qi spread across the stone. The ground under Yuming's feet turned slick, the feedback dulled.
She'd distorted his footing.
The sword wielder adapted, chopping ahead of Yuming's path instead of chasing him. The other man went around in a semicircle, herding him towards the sword wielder's path.
Yuming felt his next step slip. The man's sword reversed. Yuming blocked with his dagger, using all of his strength. Steel rang, and shock numbed Yuming's arm.
The woman raised her hands, her fingers loose. She exhaled, and soft qi pulses rolled outward, obscuring the rhythm of the natural motion.
Mirror-Current relied on internal rhythm. She was disrupting it, what an inopportune opponent!
Yuming stopped circling and drove straight. His Ren Meridian brightened as he stepped into the pulses. His dagger snapped toward her leading foot. She withdrew, rhythm broken for a breath.
He pivoted off the ground, turning towards the sword wielder, giving him two quick swipes with his dagger.
The barehanded man charged. Yuming flowed past, but the Ren stream burned hot now, breaths rough.
The woman's pulses returned, and his rhythm was thrown off again.
The sword chopped down. Yuming deflected—slower. The flat slammed his shoulder, and shock ran through him.
His Mirror-Current Step wavered. He fell three steps backwards, and realized that the flow had stopped.
His Ren Meridian stopped threading qi, he was out of strength, and the current was broken.
Suddenly, behind them, hurried footsteps pounded from the entrance, echoing hard against stone, closing fast. There was someone sprinting down the tunnel toward them.
They all looked over and saw a heroic young figure with fluttering crimson robes. The faint lighting in the cave just barely revealed his face—
It was Liu Yujin!